Aphrodite's Curse
by Lil-Miss-Steph
Summary: Imagine that the Ancient Magick of Greece came to life in the halls of Hogwarts...What would happen if the descendants of some of the most amazing beings from the annals of history were to roam the flagstone corridors...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Photo on a String**

Severus Snape was running late. He knocked into a woman in his haste, growling as her voice rose in anger behind him, speaking in a language he didn't even understand. If he had taken the time bother with a translation charm he would have heard only irate accusations...Surely not worth his time. He was thankful for the late hour and unpleasant weather. It was easier to scan the shop fronts without trying to maneuver around a crowd. He soon found the sign bearing a half-naked mermaid and the faded lettering that spelled out characters he recognized, but could not read.

He scanned the nearly empty, rain-swept street before crossing and ducking into the establishment. The lighting inside was dim and faded, the paint peeling slowly off of the walls. Small, round tables were scattered across the dusty floor, accompanied by tiny leather-topped stools. Only two of the tables were occupied. One contained a group of surly-looking middle-aged Muggles, obviously dock-workers. The other, a lone hooded figure. He pulled his own hood closer around his face before starting toward the latter.

Severus swept his cloak back before taking a seat next to the stranger, positioning his right hand inches away from his wand.

"You are late," the man's voice was deep and resonate, rumbling in his chest.

"I had prior engagements. You should feel privileged my master even entertained your suggestion on such short notice," Severus sneered.

"I feel confidant that your master is not an imbecile. Time will only tell if the same holds true for you. What I offer is not, and should not, be taken as a mere suggestion. I am dropping a great prize into your lap to present to your master," the man replied.

"The Dark Lord will take whatever is not given to him freely," Severus said, his eyes narrowing within the depths of his hood.

The man gave a heaving sigh before pulling back his own hood, revealing a man of middle years with dark features and olive-toned skin, before saying,

"It will cut his effort and time in half, to merely except what I am offering freely."

"Nothing in this world is free. What strings do you dangle this offer upon?" Severus asked, waving aside the barmaid that had started toward him.

She gave an affronted frown before straightening her back and turning away, muttering to herself. Severus looked back at the man, catching a smile at the corner of his lips.

"Ah. strings...This world is played with strings, would not function without them, and those that pull and tug at them to do their own bidding. I'm sure your Dark Lord carries many of those strings in his own two hands," he said, his murky eyes growing intense.

"Indeed, and what string do you attempt to play him by?" Severus asked shortly, sounding bored.

"I merely wish to present my own string, so that it may continue to play, and not be cut short. For your master is just as good at cutting those strings as he is at playing them," the man responded.

Severus looked at him for a long moment, searching the man's face.

"Your name is Lysander Therius. You are the Draft Master at Magikos Akademia, the local institution of magic. What could you possibly have to offer the most powerful wizard of all time?" He asked, finally.

The man twitched his lips higher up into his full cheeks, flashing white teeth in his grin.

"Your master searches for a mate...A woman. I have heard such things."

Severus kept his face immobile, even as he felt his heart skip a beat.

How could this man possibly know this? The Dark Lord had just recently asked his most dependable followers to find him a woman for him. A mate...as this man had said. Yes, a mate...Severus was sure that Voldemort had bigger plans than mere lust, desire, or even comfort. Voldemort had always sought immortality, a way to live on forever. He had succeeded in more ways than one, obviously...but there were still other, dark ways...

Still, how had this man known? Severus watched him closely as these thoughts flew through his mind within the space of two blinks.

"You are well-informed, Therius," he said, narrowing his eyes.

Therius smiled, his dark eyes flashing.

"Yes, I am," he said.

Severus continued to watch his flashing eyes, seeing something stir within them, something dark and twisted; he knew too many people with eyes such as those.

"Do you have one in mind...A woman, I mean. For my Lord," Severus said, taking a chance.

"Yes, I do," Therius replied, with his self-assured smile and twisted eyes.

Severus heaved a sigh and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. He gently prodded the man's unguarded mind as he waited, finding nothing to alarm him. This man offered up all of his thoughts and memories willingly. Still, Severus would not offer anymore. This stranger must make the next move, and it had better be good, or he would be dead.

Therius sat up, reaching into an inner pocket of his robes. Severus had his wand out before he realized the man was only taking out a sheet of paper. Therius grinned even wider.

"You are quick," he said, turning the paper over, revealing it as a photograph.

Severus pulled it toward him, looking down at a pair of girls lounging beside a brook. One was obviously not human, but humanoid, with pastel pink hair, but the other, the girl on the left, was the one that drew his eyes. His heart began to beat instantly faster, his breath growing too hot for his chest to contain.

To describe the girl as beautiful was a colossal understatement. She was the most spectacular creature he'd ever laid his eyes upon. She sat at the streams' edge, her bare feet kicking in the shallow water. Shimmering droplets clung to her sun-kissed skin...so soft! That honey-hued skin looked so unbelievably soft...She wore close-fitting, thin blue robes over a simple white linen dress, both were pulled up past her knees so she could dangle her feet, revealing enticing inches of shapely muscle and glistening skin. Full hips dipped into a slim waist before flowing into a full bosom. Her robes were unbuttoned to reveal more impossibly silky skin stretched over a shadow of cleavage. A mass of glorious black curls tumbled down the front of her robes, the slanting sunlight glinting off of it with an ethereal blue sheen.

She was smiling and laughing, tossing her curls about. Straight white teeth flashed between full, pouting lips. Her features were a creation of elegant bone-structure; graceful jawline giving way to fluid, high cheekbones; slightly wide-set eyes flowing along the delicate line of her straight, small nose and smooth brow line. Oh, and those eyes! Merlin, those eyes...They were wide, yet exquisitely shaped and filled to the brim with the most remarkable color. A rich, lustrous violet hue shaded with streaks of silver and blue.

"Who..." Severus found that his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth.

Therius smiled, turning the picture over. There was scrawling handwriting that Severus squinted to make out.

"Her name is Kalista Karakinos. She is a resident of this island and an attending student at Magikos Akademia. She is currently fifteen-years-old, she is pure in both Greek and magical blood, although she has no close living relatives. A few scattered cousins here and there, a distant aunt, nothing more substantial. Her father is unknown to her, perhaps dead. Her mother dead of draft poisoning. No siblings, her nanny controls her estate in her name until she comes of age. Her grandfather was Sebastian Vasilis, famed dragon tamer and owner of the local dragon crystal mines, now deceased."

Severus longed to turn the picture around, to gaze upon her again as he listened. He resisted the urge, instead saying,

"She is incomprehensibly beautiful, pure of blood, wealthy...and very, very alone."

Therius nodded, turning the picture over again and sitting back.

"That is not all...Have you ever traced the bloodlines of the Vasilis family? The Karakinos?" He asked.

Severus shook his head shortly, his eyes drawn to the photo that lay between them.

"My masters' interests have not yet reached these lands. My interests are his," he said, his hungry eyes tracing along the girls slender collarbone.

"I am sure that will change once has seen this one. I have traced her bloodlines, sir. I am confidant to say she may possess Ancient Magick, for those lines flow to many of the Ancient Magicians of Greece," Therius' deep voice rumbled around him, churning his already spinning mind.

He felt as though his senses were overpowered by elegant contours, silken skin, lustrous hair and consuming silver-tinted purple eyes.

"Which ones?" He heard his own voice asking, barely managing to tuck the picture out of sight in his pocket.

"Zeus, Aries, Cronus, Hades, Dione, Adonis...Aphrodite, many more even. You know how the Ancient Ones intermingled. Her blood is very pure. Her family has owned their estate on Crete for generations, and they do not mingle their blood. Although the views of bloodlines differ here in Greece, money begets money. Money is drawn to money. Purebloods here are often linked to the wealthiest families, that wealth more often than not gained through magical means. We do not see Muggleborns' as less efficient in manners of magic, but they are often of rougher stock...And, naturally, lower in society. It is a sense of propriety," Therius replied.

Severus nodded shortly again, feeling the photograph burn in his pocket. Looking out the window, he didn't think that he would make it back tonight. The Ministry was prohibiting Apparition after midnight, and it would be too dark to fly in the storm. Still, the photo burned...itched...throbbed, like a wound needing to be tended to.

"Magikos Akademia has been shut down, in light of your masters' return to power. There was a curse sent to the schools' Head Master, and several more sent to other Masters' and the Academy Senate; all of whom died, all of which can be traced easily to your Dark Lord," Therius' voice resounded, weary and resigned.

Severus managed to contain the smile that tickled at the corner of his mouth.

"The same has been said to happen at several other academies around the world. All magical institutions, all suffering losses in magnitudes that frighten the entire communities. Children would not be able to attend their schools, even if they were open," Therius' continued.

His dark eyes looked hard at Severus before he added,

"It seems your master seeks to make an impression on the entire world, this time around."

"It seems," was all Severus gave.

"He may very well succeed; I have heard rumor of his great army...of how it grows each and every day. His ranks swell with wizard and creature alike," Therius said

"It is true, so very true," Severus said, finally allowing his smile to come forth.

"This is why I put myself forward, and anything I can give to help your Lord," Therius held himself very still, watching Severus with his dark eyes.

Severus nodded in time, saying,

"I will put this bit of information before my master, and let him know from whence it came. Most especially, from whom."

Therius nodded too, looking relieved.

"Several students from the closed institutions have applied for transfer to Hogwarts, which is one of few schools to remain open in these times; for the governors have been disbanded and the staff and students are quite untouchable. Britain has learned better ways to defend itself against the Dark Lord, Dumbledore anticipates his moves-"

"Dumbledore is an old fool, as is anyone who believes otherwise!" Severus interjected in a hissing voice.

Therius inclined his head in submission.

"Nonetheless, Hogwarts remains under his control and out of harms way. A safe haven for determined students to study and advance. And you remain employed there as a staff member. Our Kalista is one of those determined students, very determined...Right now, as we speak, she seeks entry into your domain. She seeks, of her own accord, to be closer to your Lord's grasp..." he continued.

Severus narrowed his eyes, continuing to feel the photo burn and itch within his pocket.

"You are very well-informed, Mister Therius," he said in a growling voice, standing to leave.

Therius stood as well, giving a sweeping bow as he replied,

"I am."

Severus gave one last curt nod before exiting the mangy bar in a flourish of black robes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Darkness in Waiting**

Draco Malfoy was absolutely terrified. He stood in his bedroom, looking into his mirror, at himself..Trying to see the man within. His pale blond hair grew longer than he had ever allowed it; to the middle of his ears, split haphazardly down the middle. If he grew it out five or so inches, he would look very much like his father. He also had his father's icy grey/blue eyes. Still, would his skin grow taut and strained over his sharp features, as his fathers' had? Was he destined to be another pre-cut Pureblood, another replica of the same mold?

His father was gone. Held within Azkaban, and of little or no importance to the Lord he had served for most of his life. Even still, his absence left a gaping whole in the Dark Lord's forces. Those forces did grow with each day, but there were only a select few entrusted with the Dark Lord's most important missions. Lucius had been one of those few. Someone would have to replace him.

"It is time, Draco."

He closed his eyes at the sound of that piercing, broken voice...so twisted with malice. He heard that voice too often lately, the voice of his Aunt LeStrange. He nodded shortly, opening his eyes to give himself one last hard stare, before leaving the room behind her. She walked at a quick pace down the wide hallway and down the stairs, through the entrance hall and to the servants' door. She opened the door and thrust him into it, her dark, twisted eyes peering in at him with sick glee before the darkness absorbed him. He felt his body tense as he heard the door lock behind him and started forward, away from it. He had never seen the servants' passages so dark before, every single lamp had been extinguished. He pulled out his wand, then thought better, and continued on into the darkness.

The passage was long and twisted, full of cold drafts. He couldn't tell if they were a natural occurrence, or something conjured to chill and frighten him. Either way, it was working. He finally reached the door that he knew led into the cellar. He pushed his hair back, ineffectually, for it fell back into his gaze in an instant, then took a deep breath and turned the knob. The door swung open with the whining creak he had known it to have his entire life. Still, somehow the sound seemed eerie and haunting now. He stepped into his cellar, its' once familiar contours and crevices creepy and sinister. Sputtering green and black candle flames danced from every corner, nook and cranny. His father's dueling platform, where he had trained Draco for as long as he could remember, had been transformed. It was now lined with hooded, masked and cloaked figures; the once familiar shape made ominous with drapery and flickering candlelight. At the center of the stage stood a figure altogether different from the others, and utterly terrifying.

He wore no hood, no mask...although if Draco didn't know better, he would think that face were a mask. Sickly pale skin of purest ivory; thin, almost nonexistent lips above which sat a nose composed of sharp bone and slitted nostrils. And then, of course, those eyes...Merlin! The eerie, upturned, snakelike cast to them, the piercing, scarlet red hue, the disturbing, slitted pupils...Merlin! Those eyes...he had nightmares about those eyes,and he was sure he was not alone with that torment.

Draco went to stand before that terrifying figure, under that penetrating gaze...His knees wobbled...His heart pounded...He could feel a cold bead of sweat trickling between his shoulder blades. Each step he took, he fought the urge to bolt...To run and never stop running. Yet, he continued to take each step, until he kneeled before the Dark Lord, his head bowed low.

A thick, pregnant silence filled the room, but Draco didn't say a word. He didn't even lift his head. He instead focused on the trickle of perspiration that pooled at the nape of his neck before sliding down his back.

"We have a new initiate."

The low comment hissed above him, laced with a deadly, humorous cord.

"A boy...A mere boy kneels before me, wishing to be trusted and called upon as a servant of the worlds' most powerful, and ultimate Master."

The sound of cackling snickers arose on both sides, cut short by an angry hiss. Draco clamped his hands together to keep them from shaking.

"Nevertheless, this boy will become my most useful weapon."

Draco felt a cold touch jerk his head up, his own shocked, gray eyes staring into the slitted blood-red eyes of Lord Voldemort. An excited sneer clung to those thin lips, a haunted desperation sparking those insane eyes.

"This boy...This boy will destroy the Head of the Order!"

And the Dark Lord's voice rose in a high-pitched cackle that contained no mirth, as everyone around him looked about in utter bewilderment and shock.

Harry Potter was miserably sick. A raucous cough sounded from the corner of his room where his tiny bed sat under the window. Wads of tissue paper were scattered across the carpet, along with ancient-looking texts and magazines with moving photographs. A pathetic sniffle followed in wake of the coughing, accented by a moan. If only he could use magic, he would be better by now. This flu had been hanging on for days. He sniffed again and sat up so he could reach the tissue. Even if he could do magic, he wouldn't be able to cure himself. He had never tried to learn healing charms.. Still, it would be nice this time next year. He would finally be considered an adult, at least among wizarding folk. Which were the only folk who mattered to him anyway.

He stopped suddenly in the middle of blowing his nose. That wasn't a very good thought. His eyes strayed over to the newspapers he knew were strewn across his nightstand. He didn't have his glasses on so they were nothing but a blur, but he knew the words that were plastered over every one of them.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...You-Know-Who...

He felt a numb pang resound deep inside of him, a familiar sick twisting of his intestines...Sirius. Sometimes it seemed almost easier to just give up, give into the nothingness. That was the only way to describe this feeling. Empty nothingness...Still, each day came and went. He didn't smile often, but he did find himself looking forward to returning to Hogwarts, as usual. Hopefulness was not a feeling he thought he would be able to have any time soon. The fact that he was hopeful heartened him slightly, and put the numb emptiness at bay. Still, there would be nights, or even days, when he felt it much easier to reside within himself. Those times made thoughts of giving up seem comforting almost. Life just seemed so daunting sometimes.

There was so much to fight for, so much to fight against, so little to fight with...He had never expected to have a life full of such turmoil, and each year things seemed to get bigger. It was all he could do to keep up with his own shadow, and it was getting more and more difficult. He was just a boy. Just a fifteen-year-old boy with a commanding fate thrust upon him by the whims of destiny. It could have been Neville. Harry felt himself shiver with gooseflesh as he wished his fate was that of another, then instantly recanted his desire. He would not wish this fate on anyone, no matter how much his lot seemed to rise above him. He would make his way threw this, one step at a time, one day at a time, just as he always had. That was the best he could do.

Harry shook his head abruptly, which caused another racking fit of coughing. He was going to be sure to practice healing magic when he got back to Hogwarts. He sighed again, when his coughing subsided, then settled back down underneath his covers, his bright green eyes fluttering closed.

Severus Snape slammed the door shut on the sudden downpour he'd been caught out in. He quickly peered around the inn he'd ducked into. It was dark and dusty, seemingly like every other building he'd visited in this bloody country. It didn't matter, just one more day and he would be out of this place, with his own great discovery in hand. He pulled his hood up higher as he approached the bar-tend and promptly purchased a room.

"Have a meal sent up.," he added, hoping the man understood English as he ascended the stairs.

His room was on the second floor. It was a tiny little rat hole, smelling dank and of mildew. It didn't matter, it would do to pass the night. He sat down in the little leather chair beside the window, reaching into his pockets as he did so. He pulled a photograph out of one and his wand out of the other. Then he reached into another pocket and removed a flask of Fire Whiskey. He pointed his wand at it and a silver haze smudged the outlines of the flask as they rearranged themselves into the smooth, curved lines of a crystal decanter.

Severus stood up and removed his cloak with the usual elegance and flourish he carried in all of his movements. He placed it on the rack near the door, picking up the crude tin cup beside the basin on his way back to the window seat. He Transfigured the cup into a fine sipping glass and poured himself a generous helping from the decanter. Taking a healthy swig, he closed his fathomless black eyes, and let out a contented sigh.

He savored the first sip, but downed the rest of the glass with one flick of his wrist. He poured himself another glass, then picked up the photo he had removed from his pocket. Sipping the fiery amber liquid slower now, he gazed down at the extraordinary young girl his mind had been focused on since his meeting with Therius.

His ebony eyes roamed hungrily over her lounging figure. Her skin was truly like fresh honey, golden and glistening. Her long black curls were glorious in their abundance, shining with streaks of twilight blue in the sun's slanting rays. Her perfect face was radiant in her mirth; a creamy golden complexion blanketing her flawless bone structure. Severus felt himself drawn to those eyes again...Those ice-streaked violet eyes. They were so wide and innocent, yet deep and alluring; the exotic shape lending a sensual cast to them. Great Merlin's Balls, she was spectacular!

Severus' long, thin fingers splayed on the tabletop, releasing his wand to roll a few inches away. He felt as though he would do anything that second, just to be able to touch that smooth, honey skin. He took a deep drought, draining his glass again, then poured another. He sat back, letting his eyelids droop as he continued to stare at the girl in the photograph. His right hand slid slowly down along the front of his robes, disappearing in the shadows the table cast upon his lap. He let out a low, rough sigh as he took hold of his desire...Kalista...

Kalista Karakinos was highly annoyed. She gave an aggravated little huff, blowing up a stray black tendril, which danced a bit before settling back into her perfect mass of curls. She had yet to receive a letter back from England's Minister of Magic...She knew that the man was newly appointed, but he must understand now was a time for global magical cooperation. This dark wizard who called himself lord...This Voldemort, had originated in England. Now he was wreaking havoc on the entire world. She felt tears well up in her violet eyes as she thought of her beloved Head Master and mentor, Zacchaeus Erastus.

She shook her head abruptly, the tears sprinkling into her long hair. Such thoughts were pointless, she had cried enough tears for her lost mentor...her lost home...but it was no use. Her eyes welled up again with insistent heat and she let out a moan as she buried her face in her pillows. How could this happen? She had worked so hard to get into Magikos Akademia, after her mother had died. She would not be like her mother, abandoned and alone with all her money and her possessions, until finally one day your own lazy inattentiveness kills her. She had fought to convince the Senate she had a guardian in her Nymph-companion, that she would be able to get necessary funds to the school for her education. She fought to prove to them she was not just some ungrateful orphan witch with no guidance, and therefore no manners or discipline. She'd studied every single night, passed every single exam with flying colors. She had managed to prove herself, and to create a new home for herself. She didn't have any friends in school, but her teachers loved her...And she had her studies. Kalista was an avid student. She believed that all knowledge was worth having, and worth struggling to gain.

Now that new home was gone. She clenched up tighter in her anguish, thinking of the gigantic house that rose around her. This big manor that she had lived in all her life...It was not a home to her. It was a tomb. Gabrielle did her best to brighten the place up, and granted, it was much more pleasant than it had been. Yet, this big white-wash building with its' columns and marble and high ceilings...it had never felt like a home to her. Even before her mother took that last fatal draft, laced with that one fatal ingredient. A bit too much datura in her Happy Trail Potion, probably...Even before that, this house had never been warm. It had just been a pretty compilation of ornate shelves to display all of her mother's oh-so-precious belongings. A museum...A very expensive museum.

Don't touch anything! Don't run around! Don't sit on that chair, it's an antique! Don't walk on that runner, it's $10,000! Don't turn on that lamp, it's Australian Crystal! Don't be so loud, you'll scare the $13,000 lynx!

Kalista's head spun with memories of her mother's shrill voice yelling out in fluid Greek. She turned over, sprawling out on her silk coverlet to stare at her gold-leaf and diamond chandelier. Well, it was no longer like that at least...She was now the Kyria, the Lady, of this manor. If only in her deeds and not yet in writing. Soon enough, though, she would come of age. Then, she wouldn't need to beg for the assistance of others. She would be able to request to further her studies with any wizard under the sun, all on her own.

Still, what was she to do for now? Hogwarts was the only school left open for thousands of miles, and Hogwarts was in England. What was she to do if this Scrimgeour fellow didn't get back to her in time? She knew there was a small academy in California, but it was just barely accredited...A candle flame to the roaring fire that was Hogwarts. Hogwarts was known worldwide as a renowned institution. It rivaled Magikos Akademia, Beauxbatons...Durmstrang. In all of the lists of the greatest magical institutions, Hogwarts was always near the top of the list. Who had ever heard of LAMA, the Las Angeles Magical Academy? She had already received a reply from the Dean of LAMA, but it was definitely her last option. She just had to get into Hogwarts, Scrimgeour had to reply to her. If he didn't, she would just have to go over his head and send an owl to the school's Headmaster. She had heard only good things about Albus Dumbledore. Kalista knew that was rather inappropriate, but she resolved to do it if she didn't receive a reply within a weeks time.

Her scattered thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on her door.

"Enter..." she called, speaking her native tongue, Greek.

"Kyria, you have a visitor," Gabrielle looked a bit frazzled upon entering, ducking into a clumsy curtsy.

This instantly gave Kalista an idea of who was calling. She wiped her eyes and motioned Gabrielle to go on in one fluid, impatient gesture.

"Sedah Melanion..." the name burst from her head Nymph-Companion's mouth like a curse, her glittering blue face turning deep purple in its' wake.

Kalista let out her breath and stood abruptly, straightening her flowing white skirt and black lace overlay.

"I'll see him in the west parlor," she said, her voice slightly a tremble.

She could see Gabrielle's disapproval in the slump of her shoulders as she turned, but ignored it as she slid on to the small satin-covered stool before her vanity. Kalista looked into her wide eyes, seeing the violet color darken to the hue of blackened purple...The color of violent storm clouds or fresh bruises...She shook her head abruptly, causing her curls and pearl ear drops to jounce about. She ran a brush hastily through the curls, turned her head about to admire the tiny diamonds that framed her pearls, then stood and went to the door.

Kalista stopped short as she took hold of the doorknob, her shoulders rising as she took a deep breath. Then she shook her head again, and pulled down the handle. Her heels echoed delicately atop the marble floors, the sound fluttering up to the high frescoed ceiling as she started down the grand stairway. They were laid with a rich Arabian runner, which muffled the tapping slightly. She managed to arrange her features into polite indifference as she entered her parlor.

Sedah was laid out on one of the suede couches, his hand toying with a glass of white wine as he watched her enter the room. He made no move to stand and greet her properly.

"Kalista, you look good enough to eat..." he murmured, his dark hazel eyes sparking as he licked his lips.

She smiled slightly as she sat down, taking another glass of wine that was proffered by a nearby attendant. The servant placed the bottle of wine into an ice bin on the ivory table, beside a large porcelain bowl of plump grapes, oranges and peaches. Kalista watched Sedah over the rim of her glass as the Nymph-companion shut the door behind her. He looked to be his usual sly, devious self. She wondered what could be going on in his depraved mind now.

He continued to stare at her with those hard, hazel eyes, as if probing her silent will for something he knew she wouldn't say aloud. Then his dark, handsome face broke into an easy smile, straight white teeth flashing among rich, olive-toned skin. He really was quite dashing...

"I have missed you. I pray to the gods every night that you will come to your senses. Come back to me," his voice was too nonchalant for sincerity, still, her smile deepened.

"Well, then you must understand why your prayers have not been answered. It is no good to pray to gods that no longer exist...Never did really," Kalista responded through those smiling lips.

"Just because they were really men does not make them any less. A man can become a god if he is powerful and grand enough. All gods were once men," Sedah said.

"And women...?" Kalista quirked an eyebrow and took another sip of wine.

Sedah's smile deepened,

"You, yourself are proof of my statements."

"I'm no goddess. I wouldn't wish for Aphrodite's problems," Kalista said, shaking her head with a slight giggle.

"Well, you already got her looks...So, the best of luck. Still, you have avoided my question. Why do you no longer call upon me?" Sedah asked, focusing on his wine again.

"It wasn't right...Sedah, you know that. We were only drawn to each other in the first place out of mutual appreciation," Kalista replied, picking a particularly juicy-looking grape.

Sedah's hand slid onto her leg as he sat up, firm and commanding, halting her hand before it reached her mouth.

"There is still very much about you to appreciate, Kalista...You know how good I can be about showing my appreciation..." His voice was deep now, husky with his insistent desire.

Kalista quirked an eyebrow again before giving a playful little smile and popping the grape into her mouth. She continued to smile as she began to chew slowly, tracing along the fingers of his hand which gripped her. She seemed intent on those fingers as she swallowed, then gave a small shrug and downed her wine. She stood suddenly, causing his hand to slip free, and reached for the bottle of wine. They stared hard at one another as she poured another glass, then she sighed and turned her back to him.

"No, Sedah...It was never good between the two of us. Now, with the Akademia gone...With Erastus gone...I will be leaving soon. I must continue my education, somehow. There is too much to learn..." Her voice was soft as she stared into the fine crystal glass, twirling the smooth apple-infused liquid it contained.

"Kalista, you do not understand. I want you. I have to have you. I will have you."

Her body went all a tremble at the edge of raw emotion that cut through his words.

"What do you mean it wasn't good? You squealed and squirmed like a newborn kitten under these hands," his hot voice was right in her ear now, those hands running up her back to splay along her shoulder blades. Kalista closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a swig of cold wine. She felt the heat subside slightly with each deep breath, but it was spreading from his hands like a wildfire... His hot breath on her ear and neck like gasoline feeding the flames.

"Not in that way, Sedah. I mean good, like...I don't know, there was no love in the act. There was nothing endearing or lovely or cherishing about it. It was amazing, it was beautiful, in its' own way, and passionate...But- Sedah, there were times when I felt something open up inside you, calling out to me. And I have to admit, it scared me," she turned to face him, but his hands remained firmly placed on her shoulders and his eyes grew darker.

Kalista let out a flutter of nervous laughter, taking another sip of her wine and flexing her contained shoulders.

"Please, Sedah...Some of the things you asked me to submit to...It is not normal. That is not love," her voice had dropped but it clipped off in a pain-filled gasp as his grip tightened even more.

"When did I ever speak of love to you? What does pleasure, desire, need, have to do with love?" The last word came out a disgusted sneer, his voice low and menacing.

"Sedah, please..." she let out another sharp gasp as he jerked her body closer to his.

"No! You do not understand, Kalista. I want you, and I will have you," he stated, turning his head with a confidant smile.

He brought his face down to the crook of her neck, the V-shaped neckline of her blouse left her creamy golden skin exposed there. Sedah inhaled deeply through his nose, opening his mouth to exhale softly upon her throat and earlobe. Gooseflesh rose in response to his handiwork and her body shivered within his vice-like grip.

"My servants are very near, Sedah. You would be wise to release me and go," her voice was shaking, but her tone was stern.

Nonetheless, Sedah smiled his confidant smile again before placing his lips on her lips; his hands on her face and neck, bending her head back...Devouring her. The fire flared up at the confident strokes of his tongue, forcing his kiss deeper. No matter, that she pulled back with all of her strength, pushing her arms against his relentless chest. His hands at her back and the nape of her neck, bent her to his will. He was too strong for her, and even though she fought, she felt her own desire continue to flare up into the familiar wildfire. It roared out of her control until she stopped pushing and hung, docile, in his arms. His hands began to travel down her body, insistent on her curves, forcing her ever deeper into the desire that blazed between them. Closer to the brink of that terrifying lust, that dark, carnal pleasure that ached in the center of his being. That darkness was calling out to her...No, reaching out to her; it seemed somehow familiar...and his hot kiss and insistent hands drove her ever closer. Then she realized what horrified her the most about this dark, desperate longing within him: the fact that something within her recognized it and tried to answer the call...to reach out as well. Even though this desire seemed dark, desperate, terrifying even...and somehow wrong...Something within her clicked, and that something felt right, and that something within her own self was what really horrified her.

Sedah released her suddenly, the absence of his fire causing the sweat between her shoulder blades to grow cold and clammy. He patted her cheek gently, and in spite of the fire it invoked, that hand felt icy cold.

"I will see you again, Kalista," he purred, smiling his confident smile and exiting her parlor.

Kalista let out a deep sigh and downed the rest of her wine.


End file.
